


Little Boy Blue

by kethni



Category: The Bill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 05:17:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3237719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethni/pseuds/kethni





	Little Boy Blue

The clock on the mantelpiece is striking seven, when they break down the door.

 

The bedsit is horrible, dark, dank, and depressing. In the gloom they almost miss the huddled up shape in the middle of the stained, worn rug.

 

It is a young man, surrounded by pill bottles. PC Robyn Lamar kneels and checks his pulse.

 

“Well?”

 

“He’s alive. Just about.”

 

There is an envelope on the mantelpiece, in front of the ticking clock.

 

_Sgt Gilmore C/O Dukesbury Street Station_

***

 

Inspector Paul Miller opens the smashed door, and steps into the tiny room. There is hardly enough room for the current occupants.

 

“Sir,” Robyn says brightly.

 

“So, this lad is from Dukesbury Street Station?” Miller asks, trying to warm up his frozen fingers.

 

“Yes, Sir. He didn’t turn up for work, and apparently he’s normally very conscientious. They contacted his Mum who couldn’t raise him on the phone. They found out he was living on our ground, so they got in touch.”

 

“And we broke the door down? Is that normally how we conduct missing person enquiries?”

 

Robyn moves a little closer and lowers her voice.

 

“It seems that he’s considered a bit… unstable. Dukesbury were convinced he’d come to some harm.”

 

“Unstable how?” Miller asks sharply.

 

“You know what it’s like, Sir. Things happen and people turn a blind eye.” Robyn sighs. “I chatted up a PC that I know over there; and he says, that our lad has been pestering the supervising Sergeant. This Sergeant Gilmore that the envelope is addressed to.”

 

“Gilmore… Welshman?”

 

“That’s him. Darren, the PC I was talking too; he says Gilmore has been pestered for months, but ignored it.”

 

“Pestering as in harassment?”

 

“So the rumour goes. Gilmore told him plain he wasn’t interested, but this lad kept floating around, making eyes at him, and sending gifts.  As to what specifically happened to make him try and end it all…?” Robyn shrugs.

 

“I’ve met Sergeant Gilmore. I can’t imagine anyone less likely to be harassed, or less likely to put up with it.”

 

“Like I said, Sir; the lad was considered unstable. He probably didn’t mean any harm.”  

 

“There was a note?”

 

“An envelope, Sir; as I say, addressed to Sergeant Gilmore. Sergeant Gilmore wasn’t in work today, but he’s been contacted and he’s on his way to Huxberry Station. He seemed quite keen to co-operate.”

 

“He would, he’s a good man.”

 

***

 

Paul Miller strides past the desk and punches numbers into the electronic lock.

 

“Sir!” The FDO calls after him. “There’s a Sergeant Gilmore waiting to see you. PC Briggs has taken him to the canteen for a drink.”

 

“Thank you, Carmine. Have her bring him to my office when he’s finished his drink.”

 

***

 

“Come in, Sergeant. It’s Craig, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes, Sir,” Craig says in an emotionless voice.

 

“Take a seat. Would you like a drink?”

 

“No, Sir. Thank you.”

 

“Okay,” Miller says too quickly, he is finding Craig’s blank gaze rather worrying. “You, er, you’ve been told what’s happened?”

 

Craig nods.

 

“Right well, this envelope was found. It’s addressed to you. Would you open it please?”

 

Craig takes the envelope, rips it open, and scans the contents. He closes his eyes briefly and hands it back to Miller.

 

\----------------------------------

 

‘I know this will be read by every copper that attends the scene so I won’t embarrass you with my ravings.

 

Thanks for all your patience & kindness. It’s meant a lot to me that you tolerated me, a lot of people wouldn’t have done. You were always so good to me no matter what. I’m so sorry about the scene I made before. I can’t apologise enough. Thanks for all the nice things you said.

 

You know how I feel.’

 

\------------------------------------

 

“What does that mean? You know how he feels?” Miller asks curiously.

 

“He didn’t want to embarrass me by writing it.”

 

“I realise that, but what is it?”

 

“He told me that he was in love with me,” Craig says in a choked voice.

 

“You know he’s off the life-support now?”

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

“So what happened last night?”

 

“He’d had the shift from hell,” Craig says quietly. “It finished with him and another PC finding the body of a missing schoolgirl. I kept trying to have him reassigned to the station so he could recover, but the Inspector thought he needed to ‘toughen up’. He’s always been emotionally fragile. When I did his review, I said that I didn’t think he was up to the job, but I was over-ruled. So, anyway, when the shift ended and he asked to have a quiet word, I assumed it was going to be a pep talk about the awful day he’d had. That’s what happens quite often; they have a lousy day, and start talking about jacking it in.”

 

“But it wasn’t that?”

 

“No, Sir. He wanted to talk about his feelings for me. I’d known, but he’d never actually said it outright before.”

 

“What did you do?” Miller asks gently.

 

“I said that I was sorry, but I didn’t feel the same. The usual thing: you know ‘you’re a lovely lad and you’ll meet someone special’.” Craig catches his breath. “He became extremely distressed. When he’d calmed down I gave him the number for an organisation I thought might help. He said thanks and that he was sorry. I offered him a lift home, but he said he’d already bought a bus ticket.”

 

“That was the last time you spoke to him?”

 

Craig nods.

 

“I don’t know what I should have done.”

 

“I don’t think there was anything you could have done.”

 

***

 

Craig sits on a bench in the psychiatric unit, waiting. He has never been here before and it’s a little distressing. The sad relatives sobbing into handkerchiefs, and the confused patients lost for a response. Craig has no experience of mental illness and so finds the concept a little frightening.

 

Someone wanders up and stops in front of Craig.

 

“Hello there!”

 

Craig looks up, past the clipboard, and smiles genuinely.

 

“Hello, Luke! What are you doing here?”

 

***

 

Craig and Luke sit down at an empty table in the hospital canteen.

 

“Psychiatric nursing sounds like a draining job,” Craig says, as he dunks a Hobnob into a mug of coffee.

 

“Can be,” Luke agrees. “But rewarding too.”

 

Luke’s hair is longer and spiked. The spikes are dyed blue. Craig only manages to stop staring at the blue spikes long enough to look at the tongue stud flashing in Luke’s mouth.

 

“I couldn’t do it,” Craig says with finality.

 

“I couldn’t be a Sarge,” Luke says with a grin.

 

The word reminds Craig why he is there and his face falls.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Oh, a PC on my relief tried to kill himself last night. That’s why I’m here.”

 

“Terry Lawson?” Luke says seriously, sipping his coffee.

 

“Yeah, I should go and see how he’s doing.”

 

“You can’t,” Luke says matter-of-factly.

 

“They said he’d regained consciousness. I feel responsible for him being here.”

 

Luke puts his cup down precisely and regards Craig seriously.

 

“He can have visitors, but not  _you_.”

 

“Is this a joke?” Craig asks scowling.

 

“I’d forgotten how scary you can be,” Luke says wryly. “No, it’s not a joke. He’s currently fixated on you, so he can’t see you.”

 

“Is it as bad as that?”

 

“For you, no. For him, yes.”

 

“What does that mean?” Craig asks bewildered.

 

“Well it’s a deep and long term fixation, so it might take a long while for him to recover. That's why I say it's serious for him,” Luke explains. “On the other hand, he doesn’t feel that you misled him, or let him down, and he shows no sign of aggression or violent tendencies. He’s very unlikely to be a threat to you or anyone else. So it’s not a serious problem for you.”

 

Craig puts his head in his hands.

 

“Is he going to be alright?”

 

“He’s done quite a lot of damage to himself physically. His liver is shot to hell.”

 

“And… you know.” Craig looks up. “Mentally?”

 

“It’s too early to say. Besides I’m a nurse, not a psychiatrist.”

 

“But you know what you’re talking about.”

 

“He’s depressed and he has zero self esteem. It’s possible one of the hot-shot doctors may diagnose him with a dependency personality disorder, with symptoms of intimacy-seeking obsession.”

 

Craig stares at him.

 

“Who are you and, what have you done with the real Luke Ashton?”

 

Luke laughs and jokingly slaps Craig’s shoulder.

 

“Cheeky!”

 

“I’m serious!”

 

“I got very interested in psychiatry when I was in therapy,” Luke explains.

 

“Was that for um…”

 

“Um, what?” Luke asks curiously.

 

“Coming out and… things.”

 

“This really makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it?” Luke asks gently.

 

“A bit, yeah.”

 

“I was diagnosed with a very mild avoidant personality disorder. I went through therapy and I’m much better.”

 

“Personality disorder?” Craig asks astonished. “That’s rubbish!”

 

“Aren’t you going to ask what it means?” Luke asks smiling.

 

“Go on.”

 

“A person with an avoidant personality disorder is terrified of rejection. They crave acceptance and intimacy, but end up sabotaging their relationships. They avoid anything that may lead to criticism, or disapproval. They’re inhibited in new interpersonal situations, because they feel inadequate and view themselves as socially inept, personally unappealing, or inferior to others. They avoid opening up to other people because they fear they will do, or say, something that leads to rejection. Some of them go out of their way to be obnoxious and reject the other person first.”

 

“That’s awful,” Craig says quietly.

 

“Very lonely,” Luke agrees.

 

“Is that why… um?”

 

“Is that why I behaved the way I did to you? Because I was terrified of how everyone would react?” Luke prompts.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Pretty much, but it’s a reason, not an excuse.”

 

Craig sits back in his chair. His face is sad and his eyes are dull.

 

“You okay?”  Luke asks gently.

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

“What for?” Luke leans forward.

 

“It must have been so horrible for you.”

 

“It’s kind of like being torn in two,” Luke says thoughtfully. “I was desperately lonely, wanted to be with you, but I couldn’t.”

 

“Because you were worried that your family and friends would reject you?”

 

Luke hesitates a little too long.

 

“It was mostly that.”

 

“Mostly?”

 

“I was also worried about you rejecting me.”

 

“I really messed things up. I should have been more understanding, more patient; I shouldn’t have pushed you the way I did,” Craig says sadly.

 

Luke reaches over and squeezes his hand.

 

“It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.”

 

Craig sighs and smiles wearily at Luke.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Listen, I finish in an hour.” Luke fixes bright eyes on Craig. “Do you fancy going for a drink or something?”

 

“Love to.”

 

“Do you know the ‘Emerald City’ pub?”

 

“I’ve heard of it,” Craig says amused. “Bit OTT, isn’t it?”

 

“Oh, very,” Luke says, grinning at him. “It’s great! How about we meet up in there?”

 

“Okay, about an hour you said?”

 

“Yep, see you soon.”

 

Luke kisses Craig quickly, but passionately, completely ignoring the hushed whispers around them.

 

***

 

“Hello, handsome,” coos the dragged up young man behind the bar. “How can I service you?”

 

Craig smiles warmly at him.

 

“Can I have two beers please, love?” Craig asks, playing along.

 

“Darling, you can have anything you like,” he says, batting his eyes. He is wearing sequinned false eyelashes, so thick and lush, that Craig is amazed he can open his eyes.

 

The Emerald City is a large, lively pub with several function rooms full of strippers, drag acts, and diva sing-along acts, in full swing. There are waiters, both in drag and not, serving in the restaurant area, and a Judy Garland impersonator is sprawled across a baby grand singing his heart out.

 

“Not seen you here before,” the barman observes, putting the two pints on the bar in front of Craig. “I guess you  _don’t_  come here often.” He winks flirtatiously.

 

“I’ve never been here before,” Craig agrees. “I’m meeting a friend.”

 

“Boy toy?”

 

“Ex,” Craig answers, wondering why he’s telling this to a total stranger.

 

“Best of luck, love.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

***

 

Luke swaggers into the pub like he owns the place. He exchanges cheerful greetings with the barman and several of the customers, and then spots Craig.

 

“You made it then,” he says sitting opposite.

 

“Er, yeah,” Craig says weakly, looking at the transformed man in front of him.

 

Luke is wearing a designer slashed t-shirt. There are diagonal rips placed strategically to show off his muscles. His hipster jeans are riding low enough to hint at his underwear, and he has an elaborate silver ear cuff.  

 

“This for me?” Luke asks, flicking the pint near him with a finger.

 

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

 

“Thanks!” Luke takes a big gulp of beer and sits back.

 

“I never thought I’d see you in a place like this,” Craig admits.

 

“I know you’re not into the whole lifestyle thing,” Luke says, a little nervously. “But I am and I enjoy it a lot.”

 

“Oh, I didn’t mean anything like that,” Craig says quickly, leaning forward.

 

Luke smiles warmly at him.

 

“I always… I always wanted to be a part of  _something_. I like being part of something, belonging to a group. That’s one reason I joined the police. Be on the inside for once. I’m embarrassingly sociable.”

 

“Don’t be embarrassed. It’s nice that you’re friendly and sociable.”

 

“You know, I have more friends now than I ever did in the police. I mean, okay, I’ve got over my avoidance issues, but coppers aren’t exactly friendly people.”

 

“Certainly not the ones at Sun Hill.” Craig laughs lightly.

 

“Do you keep in touch?” Luke asks, stretching out his legs.

 

“With a couple of people. Not Gina Gold,” Craig says frowning.

 

“I suppose you’ve outgrown all this kind of thing,” Luke says wistfully, gesturing around the pub.

 

“No,” Craig reassures. “I don’t think it’s immature or anything like that.”

 

“Most of the men I’ve been out with don’t understand. I want to have a proper boyfriend and a relationship, but I don’t see why I have to change myself completely and give up the things I like doing.”

 

“What kind of things?”

 

“Well the last guy I went out with thought I should: stop dying my hair, take my piercings out, dress ‘modestly’, and go to nice country pubs.” Luke frowns.

 

“He said that?”

 

“Yeah. I mean sometimes I like going to country pubs, but why do I have to choose between that and coming here?”

 

“You don’t, I hope you told him where he could go?” Craig says strongly.

 

“Yeah, and if he didn’t like the way I dressed, he shouldn’t have chatted me up.” Luke takes a gulp of beer. “If was difficult though. Most of the blokes I meet are my age.”

 

“You don’t like men your age?”

 

“No,” Luke says shyly. “I like men a bit older.” He touches Craig’s hand so quickly that Craig isn’t sure it really happened.

 

“Older men can be a bit possessive.”

 

“Really?” Luke tilts his head. “Still, enough about me. How are you?”

 

“Okay, you know.”

 

“Still a Sarge?”

 

“Waiting for a posting, I passed my Inspector exams first go,” Craig says proudly.

 

“Wow, well done.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“You didn’t fancy Terry then?” Luke asks innocently.

 

“No,” Craig says stiffly, and colours.

 

“He looked pretty cute to me,” Luke says cautiously.

 

Craig says nothing.

 

“He wasn’t obviously disturbed at that point?”

 

“No, not then, not at first. He seemed a little fragile I suppose, but nothing remarkable.”

 

“It was because he was a PC, wasn’t it?” Luke says.

 

Craig nods silently.

 

“My fault?”

 

“Don’t be silly.”

 

“But you didn’t go out with him because of me?” Luke persists.

 

Craig sighs and outs down his pint.

 

“No. I always avoided relationships with other officers of any rank. What happened with you was an exception. The fact that it didn’t work out, just proved that seeing other coppers doesn’t work.”

 

“I  _told_  you why it didn’t work,” Luke says exasperated.

 

“Okay, let me put it another way.” Craig sips his beer and thinks carefully. “That our problems affected my work so badly; reinforced to me, that dating and work are best kept separate.”

 

“I didn’t realise that it affected your work,” Luke says quietly.

 

“It did. When I had problems with Sean, it didn’t affect work because I could put it out of my mind. You being around at work meant I couldn’t think about anything else, there was always the possibility that you might appear. I couldn’t concentrate. I messed up the search for Joanna Sharpe because I was distracted with you and Joe.”

 

“I  _hated_  him.” Luke scowls.

 

“Did you?”

 

“Horrible, slimy man.”

 

“I thought you liked him,” Craig admits, horribly embarrassed.

 

“Give me some credit. Anyway you didn’t mess that up.”

 

“I did. I thought we’d searched an area when we hadn’t. Gemma Osbourne had to tell me that we hadn’t. That was the worst, potentially, but my work was going downhill generally.”

 

“I didn’t realise,” Luke says guiltily.

 

“You had a lot on your plate, as I remember,” Craig says quietly.

 

“I need another drink,” Luke says firmly. “Same again?”

 

“Please.”

 

***

 

“You’re staring at my hair.” Luke grins, as he puts a pint down in front of Craig.

 

“It’s colourful.”

 

“You’re such an old woman.” Luke chortles. “I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned my tongue stud.”

 

“Oh, I l…” Craig trails off abruptly.

 

“You what?” Luke leans forward, amused and enjoying Craig’s embarrassment. “You… like them? You… lose them?” Luke smiles devilishly and his eyes glitter. “You  _lick_  them?”

 

“I like them.” Craig leans forward, smiling. 

 

“I’d have never guessed that you would like tongue studs.”

 

“What else have you had pierced?”

 

Luke raises an eyebrow.

 

“What makes you think anything else is?”

 

“You said your ex told you to take your piercings out, plural.”

 

“You should have been in CID.” Luke teases.

 

“There’s no need to insult me,” Craig retorts.

 

“So, you like tongue studs, but you don’t have one?”

 

“I like that t-shirt, but I’d look pretty ludicrous wearing it.”

 

“It was my pick of the clothes,” Luke says proudly.

 

“Pick?”

 

“You mustn’t laugh.” Luke warns.

 

“Now I know I’m going to laugh. Even if it isn’t funny.”

 

“Then I won’t tell you.” Luke sticks his tongue out and waggles it at Craig.

 

“That’s a different one than you had in before.”

 

“True, the other one is my everyday normal tongue bar. It’s just a standard stainless steel bar.  This is my best bar.”

 

“You have more than one?”

 

“I have  _tons_.” Luke grins. “Want a proper look?” He opens his mouth, runs his tongue around his lips slowly, and then slides his tongue out provocatively.

 

Craig leans closer and looks at it. It is a stunning deep blue stone set in sterling silver.

 

“That’s a very handsome piece of jewellery,” Craig says smiling. “Matches your hair.”

 

“Thank you,” Luke says primly and sits back in his chair. He stretches out his legs, trapping Craig’s legs between them.

 

“Come on then, which piercings and where did you get your t-shirt?”

 

“Hmm, I think you should answer one question for each that you ask.”

 

“Go on then,” Craig says, shaking his head.

 

“Do you have any rules against dating a psychiatric nurse?”

 

“No, not even ones with blue hair and a tongue bar.”

 

“My hair isn’t always blue.”

 

“No? What other colours?” Craig leans forward and gently tugs a lock of Luke’s hair. Luke smiles and inclines his head towards Craig’s hand.

 

“Silver, red, gold. Gold is especially nice.”

 

“Are you trying to shock me?” Craig grins.

 

“The thought crossed my mind.”

 

“What else have you had pierced?”

 

“It’s my turn,” Luke says, pretending to sulk.

 

“Well?” Craig retorts.

 

“Will you go out with me?”

 

“I am out with you.”

 

“That’s not what I meant,” Luke says, leaning his forehead against Craig’s.

 

“Oh, yes it is,” Craig says quietly.

 

“Is it?” Luke’s eyes are warm and wide. “Is that what we’re doing?”

 

“I think so.”

 

“Good. Your turn.” Luke kisses Craig softly.

 

“I’ve asked you half a dozen times now,” Craig says, and kisses Luke back a little more deeply.

 

“It’s up to you.” Luke rubs his leg against Craig’s as they continue to kiss. “Do you want me to tell you now, or do you want to discover them yourself?”

 

“Mmm.” Craig slides a hand under the table and touches Luke’s knee. “Discovery sounds good. But you owe me an answer.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Your t-shirt. What did you mean?”

 

“I did some modelling and got to keep the clothes.” Luke reaches over to stoke Craig’s arm, and knocks over both of their drinks.

 

Craig bursts out laughing and jumps up out of the way, but Luke is soaked.

 

“Oi!” The barman calls, “If you’re going to lick alcohol off him, we do a specialist range.”

 

***

 

They stumble through the door to Craig’s house. Luke’s hands are everywhere as Craig scrabbles to lock the door behind them. Craig’s shirt is thrown across the room along with Luke’s t-shirt as they make their way very slowly up the stairs. Craig is secretly thrilled to find the elegant ring in Luke’s belly button. Luke is almost dragging Craig up the stairs. He is gleeful at Craig’s kiss, the warmth of his skin, and the forgotten joy of Craig’s breathing in tune with his own.

 

***

 

They lie in bed afterwards. The air seems heavy and still as Luke wraps Craig’s arms around him. Craig smiles sleepily and kisses Luke gently on the forehead.

 

“What are you thinking about?” Luke asks.

 

“Clubbing.”

 

“You want to go clubbing?” A frown creases Luke’s face.

 

Craig pulls Luke closer and kisses him softly.

 

“I’m thinking,” Craig explains. “That I don’t want this to be a one night stand.”

 

“Me neither,” Luke says eagerly.

 

“I’m thinking I’d like to see you properly, regularly.”

 

“That’s what I want!” Luke plants tiny kisses all over Craig’s face.

 

“Good. I’m thinking that you’re probably going to want to go clubbing, and you might want me to go with you.” Craig strokes Luke’s back. “But only once, as you’ll quickly change your mind when you see me there.’

 

“You’re worrying about that?”

 

“Some.”

 

“Craig,” Luke says seriously. “I’m not into clubbing. The Emerald City is as much excitement as I can handle. I only look like a party hearty boy. I’m really a home loving boy.”

 

“Oh,” Craig blushes. “I would have gone clubbing with you.”

 

“You know, I believe you would too.” Luke strokes his face. “Another reason to love you.”

 

 

 

The End


End file.
